Matchmaking Magic
by a mountain of gideon's scones
Summary: So, basically, I have to get Rose and Scorpius together, when they're mortal enemies. This should be fun! /a Scorrose oneshot, written in the perspective of Lily, the chief person who gets them together!


_For **Middy's challenge** on the RoseScorpius Challenges thread on the **RoseScorpius Fans** Forum – you should all go there!_

_This is a Scorrose that is narrated by Lily Potter, who was the character I was given to orchestrate Rose and Scorpius getting together._

_Dedicated to: **Middy,** for her flawlessness, and also **Alice,** for being superdupermegafoxyhot._

_**I don't own HP or the ship names mentioned in this fic.**_

* * *

As I sit in the Great Hall, positioned almost exactly between my two targets, I realise that I've got more than a _slight_ mission on my hands. It'll be the biggest bloody miracle on this _Earth_ if I manage to succeed in completing my challenge, set by my brother, for this school year: get my cousin Rose together with the family's old arch-nemesis's son, Scorpius, before they both enter their seventh year.

Oh yes, I almost forgot. My name is Lily Potter, and, _yes_, I _am_ the daughter of the famous Harry Potter, though this has no bearing on the story I'm telling, since everything that is being discussed here is relevant to Rose Weasley and Scorpius Malfoy. That's it. There's nobody else involved…besides me, since I'm the matchmaker…and James, since he set the challenge…and pretty much half of our family, all of whom want to irritate Uncle Ron by pressing for a Weasley-Malfoy union. I'm not quite sure _why_ our entire family – since I class myself as a Weasley, because of the Weasley blood in my veins, even though _technically_ I'm a Potter – hates the Malfoy name, since the only reason I've ever managed to get is a garbled story from a half-drunk Uncle George, basically saying that Scorpius' Dad is a raving nutjob, who tried to buy Hogwarts with a broken pogo stick and a chamberpot.

Then again, Uncle George _is_ the one who said that Dad was called Roonil Wazlib. So I'm not entirely sure whether his account is the most accurate…

"You're going to lose the bet, Lils." Naturally, my brother has to succeed in being the _biggest_ arsehole in the entire history of the universe, leaning across the table and basically _shouting_ that we're partaking in gambling. Not that it's illegal, when you comb through the Hogwarts rulebook (part of the advice from previously mentioned Uncle George, since when you start quoting amendments to rules made in the early eighteen hundreds, Prefects tend to just walk away) and basically find that gambling is the one thing that, in seventeen hundred rules, is never even _brushed_ upon once.

I narrow my eyes at the brother who, at the last "idiot award evenings" held at the same time as the official awards in the Great Hall, got given the **most likely to be a dunce for their entire life** award, which pretty much sums James up perfectly. I don't even think he realises that he's only got another three months left at Hogwarts…which also means I have another three months to get Rose and Scorpius to at least kiss, if not actually form a proper relationship.

James and I play this game every year: I set him a ridiculous dare, which he always manages to do _without_ getting caught (I swear that he pays the teachers off) and he gives me a couple who _have_ to kiss by the end of the school year, _not_ including a goodbye kiss on the platform. Every year so far, I've managed it…which is, like, four, but that's not the issue. The issue is that this is the last year we can play this, and so we went for _mega_…not that James has been completely set his dare yet, since I'm not entirely sure what can eclipse him dancing through the Great Hall naked save for a pineapple for modesty, like he did last year.

He, however, decided that he would go the whole hog, so to speak, and say that I have to get the two worst enemies, Rose and Scorpius, together by the end of the year, or, at least, for them to have kissed. And it cannot be:

Under the influence of alcohol

During a game of kiss and tell – or whatever variation James likes to make, as he does every single year

Or as a dare, in truth or dare

So, basically, the kiss has to mean something…and it has to mean something between two people who have hated one another since forever, it seems. And their hating one another got worse when they both found out that the other got the Prefect badge, so they'd have to go on patrol together. Let's just say that you can _always_ tell when Gryffindor Prefects are on patrol, since they're bickering so loudly, you can hear them on the other side of the castle.

"Oh, James, are you _ever_ going to learn that we don't discuss _that_ thing in school?" I smile sweetly, spreading jam on my toast as I watch Scorpius flirt with Lindsay, someone who has, since forever, had a crush on Al.

"Whatever, Lils, just prepare to be handing me that fifty galleons that you'll owe me when you fail for the first time," James has to be a cocky git and presume that he's going to win, just because he set the most impossible dare that could ever have been set.

"See you later, _Jamesie_; you're going to be late for Transfiguration, and I heard that McGonagall is mega pissed with you." I smile sweetly as I take a bite of the toast in my hand, turning my head to watch James' reaction to my firstly calling him the nickname he barred everyone from using, and secondly, the reminder that he was supposed to go to Transfiguration half an hour early.

The morning post arrives as I begin to think just _how_ I could manage to get this to work; owls have always interested me, how they can fly, and just how they know where their owners are sitting. Even as I watch, Scorpius receives a large parcel, as does Rose…this could have a plan formulating in my head already.

I get my usual copy of Witch Weekly, the usual competition to date an eligible bachelor staring at me right in the face. Am I going crazy, or is this fate? Could this idea be _so_ stupid that it works, getting two people who hate one another to basically correspond with one another before meeting up in Hogsmeade _and being forced to share a kiss_. You never know, you may even manage to get them into a relationship, if they basically realise that they adore one another.

The next Hogsmeade weekend is three weeks away. That should be, if everything goes to the plan that has just formed itself in my head, plenty of time for them to want to meet someone who goes to their school and wants to meet them…and they win the competition prize, of three galleons. No, wait, it had better be more like fifteen, since _nobody_ would enter a competition for three galleons, not even a third year desperate to buy the entire shop of Honeydukes.

Believe me, James tried the first time he went. It was rather amusing, him going to Hogsmeade and promising to bring back the entire shop with his three galleons, then him returning with barely a pocketful of sweets. Mum and Dad laughed about that for _weeks_.

This plan is so ridiculous, so ludicrous and so utterly problematic – how do I even get this into action? – that it may _possibly _work_. _There is a chance it might.

And I am going to bank on it that it will.

_~x~_

Three hours later, I've managed to amass a detention from Professor Thomas, for not concentrating in Charms, and gotten lines from Professor Zabini for not paying enough attention in Potions, because I've basically just spent the morning writing these letters. They have to look authentic enough to get away with, as, otherwise, the pair of them will just discard them as rubbish, and yet not _too_ over the top that they appear fake as well.

I think that they're sorted. They both basically say congratulations, you've been selected to win a dream date, with someone who is perfectly suited to you. You both attend Hogwarts and are within, pretty much, the same year (I didn't want them to then go narrow down everyone in their year to conclude it was the other one) and will have a dream date in Hogsmeade on the next trip day.

And they need to send a letter to "Mandy Aliam" (my alias; all owls seem to know this, for some reason. Remember my discussing of the owls? Well, this is why that was relevant) who will then send it onto their partner, who will, in turn, be able to write a reply. No names or specifics about family can be involved – since, hello, Scorpius would be writing "hello, my family was involved with Death Eaters," and Rose's would say, "my parents are two war heroes" which doesn't narrow it down _at all_.

And, basically, they've got to have fun. That's the purpose of this…as well as, of course, my winning the bet, thinking up a perfect dare for James, and winning money from him that he doesn't even possess.

This should be bloody brilliant!

_~x~_

The next morning, I can see both of my fellow Gryffindors perfectly as they receive their owls, confusion clouding their faces simultaneously, before the synchronised eye darting around the room. Of course, their eyes meet, and the almost embarrassed edge is replaced with apparent "intense, reciprocated hatred" as Rose once put it. This could be more complex than this…maybe they won't even kiss. Maybe they'll destroy my careful planning and let it end up being that gambling is put in the Hogwarts rule book in such a way that I can _never_ find an amendment to get me through without detention.

However, when there's a will, there's a way, apparently, and I'm one hundred percent sure that my will _most definitely _will result in my finding a way to get Rose and Scorpius together.

I'm sure of t.

_~x~_

Within the next five hours, I receive the opening letters from them both. After casting a quick spell to disguise their writing (and make Scorpius' legible, since I can barely make out half the letters involved) I open the envelopes and read their first correspondence.

Rose:

_Hi_

_I'm not sure how to say this since, um, we were both apparently picked as being "perfect" for one another. This is going to be really awkward if you have a girlfriend or something, but that's for the person who organised this to have arranged, right?_

_So, basic facts about me: I love Quidditch, yet I've never really had a chance to play it, since my Mum made me think that it wasn't really the best option for me. I'm _apparently_ quite a klutz. I like to read, draw and be sarcastic, since that's the way that we need to be to get through life, right?_

_Anyway, I hope to hear from you soon!_

That seems quite…_normal_, for Rose; I was expecting something that made it obvious it was her, yet she seems to be following the rules I wrote out in Potions quite well…for now, at least.

Scorpius' letter…well…

_Hello_

_My name is unable to be shared with you, yet I've been told I'm your "dream guy" or something, so let's roll with that. _

_I like to read, be sarcastic, and wish I'd bothered to go play Quidditch rather than lying in bed until nine am on the weekends. That's it. _

_I'll write back when you do, ok?_

So, though written in a more abrupt style, he's pretty much got the same views as Rose, confirming my idea that they're perfect for one another.

This could work out _perfectly_.

**.**

Within the hour after receiving both letters, I send them on to their respective sendees, wondering how long it will take for a response to come.

"Got your plan sorted yet, sis?" James _has_ to slink up to me in the common room that evening, rather than doing his homework I _know_ is in for tomorrow morning. And I know for a fact that he hasn't bothered to do, since he tried to ask me what it was, until I reminded him that I'm only O.W.L, and he's nearly at the end of N.E.W.T

"_Actually_ I'm well on the way to having a kiss by the next Hogsmeade weekend," I can't help but gloat as I turn to smile at my brother with a certain vindictiveness.

"_Who_ are you kissing by the next Hogsmeade weekend?" unfortunately for me, it is _just_ this moment that Rose decides to listen to my conversations, hearing my plan for the Hogsmeade weekend kiss that is for _her_.

"Um…just this boy I like…it's nothing serious," I stammer, finding myself blushing as I try and make up an excuse. James doesn't bother to even _try_ and assist me, merely stands opposite me, grinning like a retard and waiting for me to slip up. Rose can't know she's our mark. That's part of the rules. I think there are like forty three rules now, but I've forgotten most of them, since James mainly made them up to try and stop me getting Lucy and Lorcan together by throwing them a party.

"Well, if there comes anything more, I want to hear, yeah?" thankfully, Rose is too easily distracted by one of her friends on the other side of the room, and leaves as soon as I've confirmed that I will, with this fictitious boy.

"Thanks a lot, jerk," I roll my eyes at my brother, ignoring whatever idiotic comment he retorts with before he, finally, goes over to his own friends. Most likely to copy homework, even though they've all been told that they're not allowed to let him do that anymore. Then again, I guess Head Boy can get whatever they want.

I swear, McGonagall was high that day she decided to make _James_ Head Boy (probably for the whole "family heritage" thing) and didn't bother to make me a Prefect. I thought she'd forgotten about the Dungbombing of her office when she came around to her decisions, but evidently not…

On the other side of the room, I can see Scorpius is writing furiously, evidently planning on sending as many replies as he can within the three weeks. Something which could lead to them running out of conversation topics.

For the first time, I'm beginning to regret that the weekend is this far _away_!

_~x~_

Within the next nineteen days, I think there are one hundred and thirty messages passed between Rose and Scorpius.

That's not in total. That's how many messages they've sent _each other_. It has been a bloody nightmare, to be quite honest, given how fast they can _write_. And it's not even as though they're repeating themselves as they've been sending the messages: each message has another new metaphor, another new analysis or playful banter about something that one of them hates and the other one likes. It's been…I can finally understand why the owls get so pissed off, having to send messages _all the time_.

It's not like the mellow manner by which they're sending their messages – since both of them have agreed that "they can't wait to realise who their secret penpal is" and that "the creator of this is a genius" (thank you very much0 – has translated through to them in real life. Oh no, if anything, they've been arguing even _more_, even though I don't even see how, since they have so much in common. Sure, I'd understand it if Rose hated reading and Scorpius adored watching the Chudley Cannons get absolutely annihilated in Quidditch games, but _they don't_. They are absolutely perfect for one another, which goes to show that they "hate" one another because of the shared history between our families.

(I got the story from Uncle Bill last week, who basically told me that Draco was a douche and Dad and Uncle Ron were basically idiots, and that everything went crazy. Which, to be honest, made more sense than Uncle George's account…though he was apparently right about Dad being called Roonil Wazlib for about three seconds.)

And now we're on the night before their "big meeting" and I can hear Rose yelling at Scorpius because he hasn't completed his litter analysis in the common room for the past three nights now. To which Scorpius responded that he doesn't give a _toss_ about the rubbish analysis, and if she wants to be such a retard and analyse it, she's more than welcome.

She hasn't replied yet.

It's weird, though, since he _does_ really care about rubbish being dropped, so it's just further evidence to support the idea that he's doing everything he can to be a total opposite to my cousin, just to "hate her".

Well, I don't care. She hasn't brought up my apparent "lover" yet, though James has at every opportunity. So now, when Rose and Scorpius are to meet in the tearoom at eleven am, if I head there, everyone will assume that I'm going to meet my lover boy, whose identity is a secret.

I could _kill_ my brother sometimes.

Uhoh, I can see the sparks flying. Someone ought to get inbetween the sparring pair – and quickly. Unfortunately, though, it won't be me; I _like_ living, thank you very much.

_Dammit_. They've got the wands out.

_~x~_

Ten forty five am on the day of **the meeting**, and I'm sitting in the most tucked away corner of the tearoom and dressed in inconspicuous clothing, in order to not be noticed as I get a picture of the kiss. And, if they refuse, then I can jump out and order them to…and just hope that Rose doesn't deck me for orchestrating her to fall in love with her sworn enemy.

As that's where it's gone to now: love. Last night, in their final letters, both of them dared to use the word "love" – though it could be premature, even for a Hogwarts relationship – and basically insinuated they'd even like the other, even if they were in the complete opposite House. Which is a start…now, they just need to be looking in their own House.

The door opens, and the first one here is Scorpius, since I presume he wants to get the best lighting – one thing that pretty much stalking him has done for me, is to realise that there needs to be strict limits on the amount of time he can spend in a mirror – and I watch him take a seat at a table five metres from me. This is _better_ than front row seats, since I haven't arranged this…though, I suppose I _did_ tell them to tell their partner to sit there. And I _did_ put myself here. So maybe I _did_ arrange it. I don't know. It isn't the issue right now.

Eleven am on the dot, and Rose walks in. I watch with anticipation as she walks closer and closer to the table where she is supposed to meet her person, Scorpius trying to strain to see who just walked in.

Within three seconds, however, they're both aware of who the other one is, and how Scorpius is sitting at the table where Rose is gravitating to.

"What?" she barely manages to stop herself screeching this, lowering her voice to a more acceptable level for a coffee shop. "What the _hell_ are _you_ doing here, Malfoy?"

"I could ask you the same question, Weasley."

The glowers they're giving one another…I can tell that there's absolutely no way on this _Earth_ that they're going to uphold their end of the bargain, so it's time to come out of hiding.

Just, maybe after I hear what they're about to say.

"This is a joke. I don't know _which_ idiot put us together, but…"

"But…?" Scorpius repeats where Rose trailed off, his eyebrows raising as he even stands up, in the most gentlemanly movement I've ever seen him do with regards to Rose.

"But…I guess that, maybe, in the stupidest, most _weird_ sense, they were right." She doesn't sound entirely sure as she confesses this, as though she's waiting for him to pounce in and tell her she's an idiot, as he usually does. But…but he doesn't.

MY PLAN IS WORKING!

Evidently deciding to leave them to it has allowed an awkward silence to build around Rose's words, the way that Scorpius isn't declining them allowing an opinion to be formed, in my mind, that he agrees with what Rose has said.

"Well, we _do_ have the same things in common, since we managed to get on without arguing _really_, in those letters." Finally, he agrees with her, and I want to whoop for joy, before I remember that my presence is invisible in this situation, and that I do _not_ want to draw attention to myself.

"We _did_. And I don't like you enough to say, 'Oh, _God_, Scorpius, we've always been so stupid' because we didn't tell each other everything in our letters…"

"You mean that you left out that you're a controlling person who likes everything to be done your way."

"And you mean that you forgot to mention that you're an arrogant prat, who thinks that living on Daddy's money is the way to go through life?"

All Scorpius does to this is smile. I've lost sight of Rose's facial expressions, yet there was a sense of almost _joviality_ in her tone of voice as she insulted Scorpius with words that would have had an undertone of anger in them, before five minutes ago.

"I guess we're both different to who we seem to be," he decides to take the more neutral route, which is strange, for Scorpius, and I get the feeling as though he's not sure why he said it himself. "You're cool, _I'm_ cool – always known that one – and maybe…would you like to go for a drink with me?"

It seems surreal to think that my plan has literally gone from them being mortal enemies, to being so shell-shocked that they told one another they _love_ them, to then Scorpius asking Rose to have a _drink_, in about seven minutes flat, now. This is bloody fantastic.

Now, we just need the kiss…

Rose smiles slightly, as she turns her head towards me, and nods. "That'd be cool. And we could discuss what other things you omitted from your letters."

"And you could tell me yours as well," Scorpius agrees, "and then we can play-argue about the way that we're so different on the surface, and so alike, and then you'll finally fall for my charm."

Rose snorts, and I feel a solidarity as a Weasley girl for her reaction to his cheesy comment, before realising that I _want_ her to fall for the cheesiness, as otherwise I won't win enough money to buy that entire new wardrobe that I've wanted since, like, forever.

(Ok, January, but that was like over four weeks ago, now.)

"That sounds perfect," Rose replies, and it almost sounds as though she's having to hold back a giggle. That's something that's strange. Rose Weasley _never_ giggles; with the three boyfriends she's had, she has never, not once, giggled. And within the first ten minutes of meeting her secret lover who she thought she hated, she's suppressing giggles. "But I think that, just incase the person is in here, we need to kiss. Just a peck…to show that we completed our side of the deal and that I want my money…you know, just as an incentive to date you."

Scorpius raises his eyebrows. "Are you trying to infuse our new-found relationship with as much sarcasm as you can, or does it just come naturally?"

Rose shrugs, and I have to hold back a laugh. "Whatever, mate. Just kiss me and then we can be on our way to the Three Broomsticks and have a Butterbeer."

I lift my camera up and position it carefully, ready to snap the moment, when it happens. It lasts about three quarters of a second, but, thanks to Wizarding photos, I get the second before and the second after, so we're good. I have my proof.

Unfortunately, the camera makes a noise – something I'd forgotten about, as I made this master plan for me to hide in the corner whilst taking the photo of them.

And it alerts the couple I shall now call Scorrose – just like Molly and Lysander are Mollysander, which is slightly weird, but that's all I could come up with – to my presence.

Something that Rose does _not_ take well.

"You…you…_it was you_!" she hisses the last part, her face flaring up in the Weasley manner I'm glad I don't suffer from, since my hair turned a weird dirty blonde the other year – I blame a prank, but Mum doesn't agree – and she basically looks as though she wants to kill me.

Scorpius, on the other hand, looks so blasé and simply checks his reflection again, something that Rose needs to cure him of – pronto.

"Yes…?" I try to sound questioning, as though it is _normal_ for me, Lily Potter, to be sitting in a tearoom, alone, taking a photo of a couple who have been together for about three seconds, and only kissed because of a competition that nobody knows about.

"You have got a _lot_ of explaining to do," Rose informs me, marching across to grab my arm and pull me back to the table where Scorpius once sat.

As Scorpius sits down as well, his expression turning to one of intrigue, I realise that they may not be going on their date _just_ yet. Since the story will take the majority of the afternoon to explain.

I don't care, though; I'm getting my new wardrobe, and James has to now find a grey horse – that cannot be conjured or Transfigured to be grey – and a suit of armour that isn't from school, and gallop down the Hogsmeade main street before May.

Unfortunately for him, there _are_ no more Hogsmeade trips till June!

* * *

_I started writing this at 1am, and finished at just past 2:30am, so I apologise if there are any mistakes._

_Don't__ favourite without reviewing, please and thanks!_

_Vicky xx_


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